21. Chapter 20
Chapter 20
Finnley
I’ve been married for just over twenty-four hours. My mind has been on the ceremony all day. Every little detail, from the necklace Hudson gave me, to the way his tie and vest matched my dress. The hazel of his eyes as he watched me, the feel of his strong fingers gripping mine through the whole thing, the flowers, and the little bow tie around Oakley’s neck.
But I’ve especially thought about that kiss. Holy hell, how have I forgotten my best friend can make me feel like that? Correction, my husband . And I’m secretly, suddenly obsessed with finding out how that mouth of his would feel somewhere other than on my lips. I’m still giddy, even now.
I have no ring to mark the occasion. Instead, a necklace. And even though it was given in friendship, I meant it when I said I would never wear anything else. Every time I think about the fact that I married Hudson, my skin tingles and my stomach bottoms out in the most delicious way.
When it came time for us to sign the marriage license, I was nervous. We never really talked about me taking Hudson’s last name—something I never even did with my ex, Jeff. But when I leaned over the picnic table to put the pen to the paper, I knew there was nothing I wanted more. I’d like to tell myself that it was simply to make things more believable for insurance purposes, but that would be a lie. I did it for the simple fact that I wanted to. I’ve never felt more wanted, more loved than I did yesterday. And some small part of me wants to hold onto that for as long as I can.
A smile stretches across my face, and I close my eyes as I think back to that moment.
Once I finish signing, I hand the pen to Hudson and turn to Hutch. “Can you tell me how I submit for a legal name change?” I ask. I don’t know why my nerves are getting the best of me, but my stomach flutters with the question.
Hudson shifts to look at the two of us, eyebrows raised with a questioning gaze. There’s also something else there, with the way his eyes shine a little brighter.
“Are you sure?” he asks, searching my face for any sign of reluctance, His hair is falling over his forehead. He’s so damn handsome. And he’s mine.
“Is that ok?” I reply, eyeing him tentatively. My hands instinctively grasp the infinity symbol around my neck.
He pulls me into the biggest, yet gentlest, bear hug I’ve ever received. “Hell yes,” he whispers against my ear, making my skin break out in goosebumps.
So, this morning, I’d woken up as Finnley Hayes. Well, not legally, as this stuff takes time. But as soon as I can file the paperwork, it will be official. My smile has been so wide all day that my cheeks hurt. Hudson was so cute, reminding me to call my doctor to get an appointment first thing, which I did.
That’s why I let out a discontented sigh when I pull into the garage, finding it empty. It feels weird. In a very short time, I’ve already become accustomed to coming home to a house full of laughter, the sound of the TV on in the background, and the two of them at the counter while working on a puzzle, or Hudson making dinner while Paige colors nearby.
He’s had dinner ready when I come home almost every night since moving back, with the exception of two nights. While it’s usually something easy, and I know he’s just taking care of his daughter, he always makes sure there is enough for me, too. Even the night when he had dinner with Erin at the ranch, he not only brought home my cornbread, but leftover roast and potatoes, as well as a slice of Emily’s homemade apple pie.
I’m still a little wary about the extra expense he’s accruing, but because he already has a family insurance plan, the premiums won’t go up that much. He also agreed to let me pay half of the copays. Even though he’s helped me with money in the past—even offering to pay for my mama’s cremation, which I refused—I realized it’s not about that. Not really.
It’s not about the tires for my car, and it’s not about the fridge he insisted on having a repair man come out and look at when my mama died. I mean, it is. I hate being needy, and while I love the spirit of his generosity, I dislike that I always seem to be on the receiving end of it.
But mostly, it bothers me because I’ll never be able to repay him. I’ll never be able to thank him enough, and no amount of money would ever make up for the things this man has given me. A shoulder to cry on, a voice of reason, a best friend who literally gave me his last name so that I could stop struggling. If someone were to ask me to name a better man than Hudson Hayes, I don’t think I could.
That thought alone has a damp heat breaking out over my neck. It’s like every move he makes causes some new, heightened awareness in my body. My cheeks burn with heat when I think about how I fantasized about having an actual wedding night with my best friend. It didn’t happen, of course, but my inability to stop thinking about it probably has something to do with the fact that we fell asleep together on the couch last night. When I woke up some time around three, I could feel the hard length of his cock pressed against my back.
It was very reminiscent of that night in his apartment all those months ago, when he melted my brain and my panties with one kiss. He’d been hard that time, too. And even though we’d both been in sweats as I straddled him, I’d felt every delicious inch.
I’d only meant to run into Tiber Haven for a few minutes but ended up spending a couple of hours there. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends the last few months. Between that and yesterday, I could use a nap.
I have a mountain of laundry to catch up on, when all I really want to do is sit on the couch and dissect every little feeling I’m having for my best friend, while bingeing the current season of The Bachelor and wolfing down half a rotisserie chicken straight from the container. But I’m on my second day of backup period underwear, and they are not attractive. They’re those pairs that I don’t mind ruining and are a size too big, so they are nice and comfy when the cramps hit. Definitely not sexy panties. Not that I plan on anyone seeing them, but still.
The house is quiet when I step inside, except for the whir of the ceiling fan above the dining table. I drop my things in the kitchen and pop in my AirPods to continue listening to the audiobook I started this morning while cleaning rooms at the B that I shouldn’t stand here, watching my best friend on the verge of making himself come. But I can’t. I realize I want to be here. I want to see what he looks like, and what’s more, I want to know what he’s thinking about when he falls apart.
I couldn’t look away from the erotic scene before me if the house was on fire and making a run for it would save my life. Suddenly, he tips his head back, eyes closed, and I’ve never been more turned on in my life as his strokes become jerky .
A muscle pops in his jaw and his abs clench. My eyes drop as he comes, with a low grunt and a sexy, breathy, “fuck” tumbling from his lips. Thick ribbons of cum decorate the glass of the shower door, and I press my thighs together, a whimper slipping from my lips involuntarily at the sight.
His head snaps up and our eyes meet. His face is a combination of spent lust and shock. His normally light, silvery-hazel eyes turned gunmetal gray are wide, and his chest is still heaving. He opens his mouth to say something, but I don’t give him the chance.
I drop the towels at my feet and spin around, my forehead colliding with the doorjamb.
“Ow, fuck,” I mutter, gathering my bearings and racing away from the bathroom.
I grab the doorknob and slam his bedroom door shut behind me, effectively cutting off the sound of his voice when he calls out, “Jameson, wait!”